Meares and the dogs were out early, and have been running to and fro
most of the day with light loads. The great trouble with them has
been due to the fatuous conduct of the penguins. Groups of these have
been constantly leaping on to our floe. From the moment of landing
on their feet their whole attitude expressed devouring curiosity and
a pig-headed disregard for their own safety. They waddle forward,
poking their heads to and fro in their usually absurd way, in spite of
a string of howling dogs straining to get at them. 'Hulloa,' they seem
to say, 'here's a game--what do all you ridiculous things want?' And
they come a few steps nearer. The dogs make a rush as far as their
leashes or harness allow. The penguins are not daunted in the least,
but their ruffs go up and they squawk with semblance of anger, for all
the world as though they were rebuking a rude stranger--their attitude
might be imagined to convey 'Oh, that's the sort of animal you are;
well, you've come to the wrong place--we aren't going to be bluffed
and bounced by you,' and then the final fatal steps forward are taken
and they come within reach. There is a spring, a squawk, a horrid red
patch on the snow, and the incident is closed. Nothing can stop these
silly birds. Members of our party rush to head them off, only to be
met with evasions--the penguins squawk and duck as much as to say,
'What's it got to do with you, you silly ass? Let us alone.'

With the first spilling of blood the skua gulls assemble, and soon,
for them at least, there is a gruesome satisfaction to be reaped. Oddly
enough, they don't seem to excite the dogs; they simply alight within
a few feet and wait for their turn in the drama, clamouring and
quarrelling amongst themselves when the spoils accrue. Such incidents
were happening constantly to-day, and seriously demoralising the dog
teams. Meares was exasperated again and again.